


Maybe

by AudreyRose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Punklock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyRose/pseuds/AudreyRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every weekend Sherlock and John do the same thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe

Sherlock's eyes glanced around the small crowded club, a look somewhere halfway between amusement and annoyance on his face. The music was loud, the smell of smoke, alcohol and sweat thick in the air, beside him John watched him with a raised brow as he lifted his beer to his lips. The brunette lifted a shoulder in indifference as his friend mouthed 'you good?' and brought a cigarette to his lips, lighting it as John rolled his eyes at him.

He let his blue eyes lid as he took a drag, reveling in the nicotine and music for a few moments. This is what got him through his long weeks, just being able to unwind and not deal with actual life, beside him he knew John had a slight smile on his lips, hidden by that bottle. This is what they'd done every weekend since they'd met, go to some club where the music was so loud they couldn't hear the other speak, watch the (mostly shitty but sometimes good) bands, drink and stumble back to John's flat.

It was a good time, just as it always was. Sometimes they'd both fall into John's bed, Sherlock's long fingers stripping John from his sweater and jeans while John's would work on his buttons. Sherlock would always let John lead, didn't want to scare off his only friend, but he always wanted more. John is the only one who he'll let see him like this, spread out on his back and whining. John is the only one who gives him what he needs, who will take him out of his head until he can barely remember his name let alone anything else.

But sometimes they won't make it to the bed and John will take him against the door or a wall. Sherlock's long legs wrapped around John's hips and arms around his neck as he's fucked hard and fast, low moans passing his lips. John's hips moving against him as his fingers scraped over the back of the blondes neck. Neither of them needed to speak when they were like this, they both knew what the other wanted, where to touch.

But sometimes they'd just end up on the roof, staring up at the sky. Sometimes John's fingers would graze his and a slight smile would tug at the corners of his lips. He wouldn't admit it but he liked this just as much, if not more than the fucking. Spending quiet moments where his mind isn't running a mile per second, observing every little thing around him. sometimes they'd talk, mostly John with him nodding or adding a word or two. He'd listen as John would point out the different stars and constellations and then wander back inside when the sun came up and either find food or pass out curled up on the couch.

When the weekends were over Sherlock wouldn't want to leave, he'd want to stay surrounded by John's things and his scent that made him feel like he was home. But if he didn't go back Mycroft would come collect him. John would hold him a little longer, fingers running through his curls until his phone would beep and they'd break apart. But at least there was always next weekend and maybe when they were a bit older Sherlock wouldn't have to leave.


End file.
